


When We Were Young

by Wealthywetsunny



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, F/M, Fluff, Love, M/M, Non graphic smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:28:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24773893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wealthywetsunny/pseuds/Wealthywetsunny
Summary: The Seeds’ past is a tainted one. Their life has been laid out to the entirety of Hope County, knows no thanks to Joseph. But he didn’t write about the one time Jacob took a beating when he brought a girl home. Or the time John fell in love and thought he found happiness in another person.These are the parts of their childhood that’s been left hidden.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 20





	1. Jacob’s New Friend

**Author's Note:**

> For reference:
> 
> Jacob is 13  
> Joseph is 9  
> John is 4 months
> 
> I tried to get their ages as accurate as possible, but I had to bend it a little bit to get this story to work

“You’re sure this is a good idea?”

No. No, absolutely not. It’s probably the worst idea he’s had since he let his brothers watch tv and didn’t consider that their father would get home early. Or maybe it tops that, because this might actually end with his father finally putting a bullet between his eyes. 

He glances back at their linked hands though and pushes those thoughts away. He gives that smile she likes so much and watches her laugh when he says “yeah, it’ll be fine,” when they both know he’s clearly lying. 

She’s close at his heels, close enough for him to hear her excited breaths pick up as he guides her around back and cracks open a window. 

“Ooh, we’re really not supposed to be doing this, huh?”

He huffs, annoyance slipping through as he rolls his eyes. “You just caught onto that, Delilah?” He doesn’t give her time to answer, he’s already got a leg swung over the lip of the window. “C’mon, and be quiet about it.” 

She isn’t as graceful as he is, but she hasn’t had to do this as many times as he had. He catches her when she stumbles, keeps her from stepping on one of the few toys John has. 

He lets go of her even if it takes every fiber of his being to distract her. To keep her from looking, from seeing the mess that’s always been his life and judging until she’s gone just like all the other friends he’s tried to make. 

“So this is your bedroom.” She says softly, taking his advice to heart. She twirls in a slow circle, taking it in. Hands toying with the hem of her jacket. 

He follows her gaze, sees what she sees, and holds his breath. She stops and takes furtive glances back and forth between him and the crib. 

“Is this your brother? I didn’t realize he was so young.”

He wants to remind her that they’re young themselves, that he shouldn’t have to look after John the way he’s had to, but that would ruin the day, so he keeps that to himself. 

He clears his throat, “yeah, that’s John. He’s, uh,” Jacob tips his head in consideration, god he should know this, “4 months now.” 

She mumbles a soft, “cute,” but blessedly doesn’t make any moves to walk towards him. The last thing they need is John waking up screaming. 

“But I didn’t invite you here to coo over my baby brother.”

Delilah giggles, dimples showing, “no I guess you didn’t.” She looks around again, wide eyed and excited once more. “You mentioned comics?” 

He breathes out a sigh, nodding and gesturing towards his bed. “Sit. I’ll go grab them.” Jacob leaves once he makes sure that the creaking of the mattress doesn’t wake John, then he’s slipping out and running straight into Joseph. 

Joseph makes a surprised noise, holding it back at the last minute and tossing a glance over his shoulder down the hallway. “You’re home.” The backpack Jacob bought for him a few years back is slung over his shoulders like it always is. Holding the few things he holds near to his heart. It’s hanging loosely on him, a reminder that he’s little more than skin and bones. 

“Of course I am.” He reaches up and cuffs Joseph playfully around the head. “Where else would I be?” 

He shrugs, head dipping before he answers. “I went to the park,” he glances up momentarily, continuing when Jacob nods—he already knew that. “You usually walk me home. You know I leave at 3:00.” 

Jacob’s hackles raise, eyebrow twitching as he tries to reel in his anger. “Those kids mess with you again?”

He curls in on himself, fingers twisting in front of him. “Ah, they’re just teasing.”

Jacob grunts, a hand falling to Joseph’s shoulder to wheel him away from their bedroom and off down the hall. 

“They’re not. They’re being fucking rude.”

Joseph looks up at him, gaze too wise for a kid his age. “Language. I don’t like when you curse.”

Jacob gives a deft nod. He doesn’t like it when  _ anyone _ curses. They hear enough of that and Jacob has promised to do better. But it’s his brother they’re talking about, and he doesn’t need anyone else making Joseph’s life hell. 

“Are you hungry?” Jacob asks once they make it to the living room. He does a quick scan and spots their mother, not that she looks up at them. Doesn’t ask why she didn’t see him come in the front door with Joseph. Doesn’t do anything but sit and stare at the walls. 

Joseph nods eagerly. Not much of a surprise, Jacob knows that if he dared to look in the cabinets and fridge that all he’d find is stale cereal and chips. Maybe a couple cans of ginger ale and of course the last of John’s formula—but they can’t exactly have that. It’s hardly a meal.

Wordlessly Jacob digs into his back pocket and pulls out a few crumpled bills. He hands them over to Joseph and watches his eyes blow wide. 

“Take it.” He pushes his hand out further, patiently standing until Joseph finally takes it from him. “Ten dollars should be enough for some hot food.”

“Really?” Joseph finally smiles, a hesitant thing that doesn’t quite fit his face. Then, softer and maybe a little suspicious, “aren’t you hungry, too?”

Jacob snorts, “course. You’re gonna go down to that pizza spot, Cicis, you remember how to get there?”

He pockets the money. “I do.”

“Good. Go there, get a table—some AC should be nice—and bring something back when you’re done. Whatever you can.”

Joseph pauses only a moment longer before rushing into Jacob’s arms. Holding him tight around his middle until Jacob reciprocates. He’s learned by now not to ask where Jacob gets the money, he doesn’t want to hear about the time he almost got arrested for pickpocketing some lady or when Jacob and Joseph were literally starving, a week without food, and he stole a cup full of coins from a homeless man. 

He’d like to believe Jacob is good. So he lets Joseph hold onto that, it’s the least he can do. 

“Thank you, Jake.”

He sighs, giving him one last squeeze before they part. “Go on, before dad gets home. Get some food in you.” He pushes him towards the door, only moving from his spot once Joseph is gone. 

Then he’s off and dashing to where he keeps his comics. He’s yet to show Joseph his stash, it’s going to be a birthday present, so far he’s got a nice collection though. He keeps it where his father wouldn’t ever look. Under the sink where John’s diapers are, and their mother is the only one who changes John. She’s too out of it most of the time to realize much of anything, least of all a few comic books. 

And he finds them right where he left them: behind the toilet plunger and the dwindling stack of diapers. A healthy pile that he needs both hands to carry. He holds them to his chest as he carefully treks back to his room and pushes the door open.

He slips inside silently, eyes finding Delilah’s instantly. She perks up when she sees what he’s holding, a soft gasp slipping past her lips. 

“Ooh, c’mere, cmere!” She pats the spot beside her, bouncing on his bed excitedly. “Which one’s do you have?”

Jacob chuckles, a genuine smile breaking out on his face as he falls down beside her. “Mostly Batman, some Teen Titans,” he flips through them, landing on the one at the bottom and laughing, “and a Spiderman comic.” That one, that one’s very special. He’s Joseph’s favorite superhero. Lord only knows why, Jacob always thought Batman had more of a heroic backstory. A rise from the ashes sort of deal. 

“Can I see?”

“Yeah, yeah, here.” It’s with some reluctance that he hands them over. He’s overly protective of the few things he has, of the things that would bring his brother happiness. She’s careful though. Maybe she can sense their value to him, which is nice. He hadn’t expected her to stay so sweet, but each week, every day, she spoke to him. Let him know that they could be friends. Told him again and again that she has no siblings to speak of and her friends at school were scarce.

They could relate in that aspect. Considering his school program only consists of him and Joseph, though he supposes John will join that soon enough. He’ll learn all about what a terrible teacher their father is.

And so here they are. With Jacob sitting beside her as they skim through comics, chatting idly about her school and his lack there of and what they're going to do this summer. Then she brings up her father and really everything takes a turn from there. 

She’s complaining, rolling her eyes and sticking out her tongue in disgust whenever a memory crosses her mind. It makes Jacob look for bruises, has him doing a cursory glance of her legs and arms, her neck. Shouldn’t he have recognized the signs sooner? Or is she just as good at hiding as he is? 

She catches him staring. “What?”

Jacob shakes his head and clears his throat, but she doesn't drop it.

“No what? Do I have something on me?”

He gives a hard shake of his head once more and glances off towards his closed door. The lock had long since been broken, kicked in one too many times as he tried to seek refuge behind the wood. The barrier makes him feel strangely safe though. 

Delilah tips her head down, forces herself in his vision until he has no choice but to look at her. 

He huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. It takes him a moment to find his words. It's been 13 years of silence, of never saying a damn word to anyone because he knows how these things go. That his whole world would be destroyed if anyone ever knew. So he vowed to secrecy, made damn sure that Joseph did the same.

It's hard though, and now he's breaking. All his walls are crumbling down around him just because he finally made a friend? Because he has a hunch that just maybe she's going through the same thing he is?

He’s desperate for someone to know his pain. 

“Jacob…”

“You don’t like your dad?” He asks quickly, before he can change his mind. 

“Well, not right now. He just gets on my nerves sometimes.” But now she's curious, she senses his unease. “What about yours? What are your parents like?”

“My dad’s an asshole.”

She raises an eyebrow at him, laying the books down on the floor as she turns towards him. She’s waiting, he realizes, for him to elaborate.

“He just...he’s strict. Very set in his ways.” he tips his head and finally says “he’s oldschool.”

Her nose wrinkles, “how?”

Jacob’s gotten good at choosing what he says very, very carefully. It’s a sort of game and now is no different. “Oh you know, thinks the woman should cook and clean, should take care of the kids.” he leaves out the part that his mother hardly does that. Only the bare minimum to keep their father from beating her. She’d rather hear her kids scream out for mercy. 

“He doesn’t like the whole school thing either, thinks we’d be brainwashed by the government. Or at least that's the excuse he gave me.”

Delilah is quiet, staring at him with something like apprehension in her eyes. It makes him nervous. 

“Well screw him,” she declares loudly. And when he only gapes at her she's quick to keep talking. “No really. I’m not sitting in some kitchen all day and not throwing away my education. I couldn't imagine not going to school. Ah, no offense, but I mean...what are you going to do when you get older?”

“I don’t know. Leave?”

She laughs then, and he knows it's not directed at his idyllic dreams but it makes his cheeks burn all the same. 

Delilah leans into him, a hand on his shoulder. He’s not naive, not stupid, he knows she wants to hug him. It's probably the only way she knows how to show she cares. Something done to her family and the few friends she has, something she doesn’t think twice about makes him sweat. 

He knows it's coming yet it's still odd when she finally closes the last of the distance between them and wraps her arms around his neck. She doesnt smell of smoke and booze like he knows he must, yet she doesn't pull back, doesn't make a noise of disgust or send him a dirty look. Just holds on tight and whispers a soft “I'm sorry.”

And just for a little while it’s nice. It’s everything friendship should be.  _ Just for a little while. _

“Jacob!”

no.

no don't do this

nononono

“Jacob! Where the hell is your brother!”

Jacob breathes in deep, squeezes Delilah tight one last time before he's standing. Kicking the comics under his bed and grabbing her hand. “You have to leave.”

She doesn't budge though. Goes as far as standing, but after that her feet stay planted firmly on the ground as she stares at the bedroom door in abject horror.

“He was supposed to be at the door, waiting for me to come home.” His father is closer now. Coming down the hall with his threats. “Don’t you get in the way this time, boy. Not again, it’s his punishment, but I’ll beat you both if I got to.”

It takes Jacob a moment to piece things together, to try and figure out what Joseph did to piss off their father so badly that even in his drunken state he’d remember the need to dole out punishment. 

Whatever it is Joseph didn't tell him. Not that he blames his brother.

“Delilah,” he urges, tugging her again. “Come on.”

She snaps out of it. Head spinning in his direction. “Come with me.”

He doesn't hesitate, shakes his head immediately. Eyes straying to John, mind straying to Joseph. “I can’t. You need to go, if he finds you here…”

She frowns, “he can't hurt me.” But she doesnt sound convinced.

“He will.” He pulls her again and this time she follows. Waits as she bounces on her heels as Jacob tugs at the window and helps her put a leg over.

They're too slow though. Too small and too weak to move fast. And his father is rushing through the door because knocking was never a liberty he was ever given.

“Jacob. Don’t ignore…” he trails off, and never has he ever heard his father at a loss for words. But Jacob doesn't give him the opportunity to grab at his friend. He’ll have to apologize later but he shoves Delilah out the window and watches her go tumbling before she's up on her feet and sprinting away.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hisses, stalking near, “sneaking girls in now, huh? Under my roof?”

Jacob turns towards his father, shoulders reared back and chin held high. He hates giving this man any sort of satsifaction. So he keeps the fear out of his eyes as his father walks closer and closer, already tugging his belt out of its loops.

Then Jacob looks over at John, innocent, sweet baby John. Still sleeping. Jacob wont cry, but he can't exactly keep quiet, not with the wounds already on his back. He breathes in deep and looks in his father’s dead eyes.

“Not in front of John.”

“John will get some of this too if you don’t get down now.”

Just like that Jacob is done. His father knows his weakness, that he'd do anything for his brothers. And so Jacob kneels, grabs at the hem of his shirt and yanks it up over his head until his back is bared to his father. He knows that he’s got scars from previous beatings, that there are still open wounds on his back from last week. He’s a wreck right now, and he had been hoping he could skate by for at least a month until he heals. 

No such luck apparently. 

He takes it though, bites down hard on his fist to keep from crying out. He gets knocked down on his elbows, back arching as tears gather in his eyes. Jacob foolishly thought that one day he'd get used to this pain, that he wouldn't cry or shout because he'd get used to it. That hasn't happened so far and he's starting to think it never will.

So, like he always does, Jacob counts. He counts inside his head, lets the seconds tick by. It brings him an iota of comfort to know that this pain won't last. 

169 seconds.

Then it's over. Then his father is spitting on him and slurring curses. It’s just Jacob and John after that.

“Jake?”

He cringes, shoulders hunching in further as if he could disappear entirely from his brother's view. 

“Jacob...I’m sorry.”

Jacob’s shaking, he feels blood drip down his back and pool at the waistband of his jeans. He composes himself though, he has to. Without glancing over his shoulder he speaks weakly, “c’mere, Joseph.”

Joseph’s by his side in an instant, skinny arms wrapping around his waist. Hugging him tight despite the blood that gathers on his skin. It takes a moment for Jacob to realize that Joseph is crying, albeit silently. He’s shaking, head buried in Jacob’s side as he falls apart. Mumbling words that are muffled and ultimately lost.

Jacob pries him away carefully, stretching to reach under the bed for their scarce amount of medical supplies, if it could even be called that. They’ve got bandages and a roll of gauze, used to have neosporin or aspirin but they used it all up. Nothing to prevent infection anymore. But enough to stop the bleeding, to make sure it doesn’t ruin his shirt when he puts it back on. 

He grabs the gauze and hands it off to Joseph wordlessly, the both know the drill. 

Joseph’s hands are shaking, voice quivering when he speaks. “Should I get a wet rag?”

“No.” He coughs, body spasming the movement. “Dad’s already angry. Not drunk enough. Don’t let him see you right now.”

“It’s my fault.”

“Joseph—“

He quiets Jacob with the press of the gauze against open wounds. “It is. I made him mad and I wasn’t here—you sent me to get food and I knew dad would get home and he’d be looking for me. I should’ve told you.”

Jacob laughs, fists curling in his jeans as Joseph leans in closer to wrap the gauze fully around his torso. 

“Yeah,” Jacob agrees softly, “next time just let me know. He caught me off guard, that’s all.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing as Joseph finishes up. “I brought a friend over,” he confesses when Joseph sits in front of him.

He watches his brother raise his eyebrows, mouth parting slightly. “Who? Do I know them?”

“No, no you don’t. Her name’s Delilah, I met her at the gas station two blocks down about a week ago.”

“...And dad saw?”

Jacob nods, wincing, as if on cue, they hear their father yelling. Not at them—not right now—it’s muffled and angry though. The kind of thing that still makes a pit form in Jacob’s stomach. The fear he sees on Joseph’s face is the same that he feels. 

Jacob stands stiffly, the muscles in his hips screaming out in pain as he does so. “Did you bring any food back?”

Joseph looks away and shakes his head. “I felt guilty for leaving you. I ran back here…”

“Did you eat at least?”

“Yes.” He shrinks in on himself. Reaching into his pocket a moment later to hand off the rest of the money. 

“Good. That’s good.” Jacob wanders over to John’s crib, does a quick glance over his body—no bruises, he always had to check. “Let’s go back then, right now. We’ll spend the night by the lake.”

“What about John?”

Jacob sighs, running a hand through his short hair. They’ve been lucky the past few months, they hadn't needed to go running outside since John had been born.

It’s been his job to keep Joseph safe for nine years though, and he’d be damned if he didn’t do the same thing for John. 

“We’ll take him with us. Hopefully it won’t be too cold.” He knows rule number one is to never wake a sleeping baby, but they don’t have much of a choice. He glances over his shoulder at where Joseph’s still on the floor, “grab your bag, put his bottle in it.”

He hears Joseph scrambling around behind him as Jacob busies himself picking up John. Cradling his tiny body to his chest. He doesn’t have any pictures of when he was born, but he does remember Joseph when he was young, and he was never this tiny. 

It worries Jacob, has him thinking John might be premature, or that he’s got something wrong with him. He hopes he’ll grow just as tall as him and Joseph when he gets older, because he isn’t sure he’d be able to handle it if his brother has something wrong with him, some sort of deficiency. 

He swaddles John in a blanket just as he wakes, a soft cry falling from his lips. His fist raises, raking across Jacob’s cheek. 

He allows himself a moment to gaze down as his brother, to try and convey to such a young little person that he’ll be there forever. That so long as Jacob is around nothing will happen. He won’t let his father get to John. Not his baby brother. 

Finally he looks up at Joseph. “Ready?”

His brother nods, hands tight around the straps of his bag. “Ready.” 

They slip out the window and into the approaching night, welcoming the freedom the open air grants them. He can’t help but think that this is how life is meant to be, just him and his brothers until the very end. One day they’ll truly be free. That’s what he promised Joseph, one day it’ll be them three taking over the whole world. One day no one will be able to hurt them. 

He’s willing to sacrifice everything if it means his brothers make it out on the other side. For the moment though, they walk the streets of Rome in search for food. 

And right now, that’s enough. 


	2. John’s First Love

John never thought it possible for his heart to swell so large. He’s loved before, he’s felt a pang deep in his chest for the brothers he’s been told to forget and nothing more. Certainly nothing has come from his parents. He was beginning to think that there was nothing else in store. 

But he’s learning. He’s getting older and he’s starting to realize that maybe there’s something out there for him besides sin and damnation. Someone, more accurately. 

Someone named Teresa. Someone who will save him. 

“Johnny!” 

The name used to make him cringe, had him conjuring up hazy half memories of Jacob calling him the same thing. Now though, two years in, he wouldn’t want to hear anything different. 

He doesn’t turn to greet her, doesn’t need to because in an instant she’s by his side. An arm looping through his own as she presses against him eagerly. 

“Coffee, your favorite,” she says in way of hello. Handing off the steaming cup the same as she does every morning. It’s cute, domestic in a way he’s not sure he deserves. 

“Thank you, Teresa.” 

She hums softly, eyes bouncing around his face, looking at his profile as he hesitantly brings the cup to his lips and hisses at the burn.

She huffs, a laugh falling out between them. “You think you’d learn that it’s hot by now.” 

John shrugs and takes another sip, this one stings his throat when he swallows too fast. “I like the pain.” He tells her with a wink, though he sees the way her face goes slack before she forces a smile. 

Too much? Should he not have said that? He’d like to believe that this girl would accept every part of him, even the sinful bits he tries to hide away. But the way she cringed a second later makes him rethink that. Has him wondering if she’d understand that he’s tainted and the only way to gain back even a shred of good is through pain. 

She’ll have to learn. Surely her soul needs saving too. 

“Well,” she drawls, practically tugging him along when his feet drag, “I don’t like seeing you in pain.” She leans up to tap his nose, “even if it’s a burnt tongue.” 

John can’t help the crooked smile that adorns his face, or the heat that rises in his cheeks. It’s nice to be worried about, to be fretted after, even if he’s far too old for such things. 

He shakes his head and glances down at her. She’s got a soft grin playing on her lips as she looks across campus, her eyes skim the grounds and he feels her grip tighten. 

“We’re still on for tonight, right Johnny?”

He nods, distracted once more, he almost trips. “Of course. I never cancel plans.” 

Teresa blows out a noisy breath, parting from him to stop at the building that houses her next class. “That’s the problem.” She looks at him, frowning when he squints at her and blinks. Not quite understanding. She gives a loud sigh and crosses her arms over her chest. “You need a day off. Have you ever played hooky?” 

He makes a startled noise in his throat, a hand rising to his chest to press against his heart. He has never once taken such a thing into consideration. He can’t. That’s sloth. 

“I’m going to graduate summa cum laude, darling. I’ve got a shot at giving a speech.” He shakes his head regrettably, “I don’t play hooky.”

She laughs at him—he hates that—and takes a step towards the tall brick building where she needs to be. There’s a twinkle in her eyes that John’s never seen before when she speaks next. 

“I'm going to show you how to  _ live,  _ John. How to have fun without all the parties and drugs.”

His heart stops for a moment, panic setting in, how did she know? How did—

“I won’t let Harvard ruin you just yet.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. Only hypothetical. 

John forces a smile, he’s still working on getting the mask of a lawyer down, the one his professor insists will make or break his career. It seems to assuage Teresa’s fears though. Has her waving goodbye before she’s off to class. Leaving him standing outside looking like a fool. 

His fingers twitch, anxiety gnawing at his stomach as he tells himself not to mess this up. His parents would like a girl like Teresa. For once, they’d finally approve of something he did. 

If they’re happy, so is he. 

And she doesn’t need to know about his vices. Not yet. She’s a good girl, he doesn’t deserve her. But he’s selfish and stupid and he so desperately wants his parents’ approval. 

The drive home a couple hours later is boring. The same streets, same high rise buildings, same classy people walking those streets. It’s life, but life can get boring. 

So when his buddy hits him up, a text letting him know he’s got booze and coke, some people that are ready to party, that they just need a spot. He jumps on the chance. Offers up his own sprawling apartment above the ground. 

It’s not much of a party. When his friend arrives he’s only got a small crowd at his heels. It’s enough though, enough to have a little fun among themselves. 

“John! It’s been a minute.” 

John’s got his thumbs hooked in the front of his pockets, head tilted to the side and smile wide. “Thomas,” he greets gently, trying to reign in his excitement. 

There’s a buzz though, a noticeable hum running through his body as their little gang unloads everything they brought. 

He spies beer cans and a single bottle of wine. And of course, like promised, coke. The white powder is recognizable, has John biting his lip in consideration. 

“You’ve got music, yeah?” Thomas claps him in the back. 

“Of course, you know how to turn it on.”

Thomas whistles happily, walking around John’s place like it's his own home. Which is fair, they’ve had a lot of nights here. 

They settle in fast, these strangers who have been welcomed in. He spies a couple familiar faces, some girls who go to every party as far as John is concerned. 

Emily says hello, a hand ghosting along his waist while the other combs through the growing stubble on his face. “You look good, John.” Her eyes skip down, roves over his collared button up and sleek jeans. 

“You too, Em.” 

It feels...wrong...drawing her in and cupping her ass. Letting her kiss his cheek and watching her hips sway as she walks away. It feels traitorous to the one woman who captured his heart. He has to remind himself that this scene isn’t Teresa’s thing, that he could call her and tell her to come over earlier. Just to have a girl hanging off his arm that doesn’t want to fuck and leave him. 

It would be nice. 

Too nice for him. He doesn’t see himself as the kind of guy with the future Teresa is looking for. A white picket fence, a couple kids, maybe even a dog. It’s real homey. At the end of the day he isn’t sure he’d be able to do that. How long could he play house until he slips and yearns for the drugs and alcohol and sex? How long until he drags Teresa down to his level?

He’ll have to cut this party short, before she gets here. Maybe tell her not to come at all. She’ll no doubt be able to smell his breath, see how wide his pupils are blown. 

He doesn’t want to disappoint her. 

“John, c’mon, take a load off.” 

That’s all the encouragement he needs though. Just a few words and a dazzling smile and he’s in. His body thrumming with pleasure as muscle memory kicks in and he falls down on the couch next to Thomas. 

He falls hard and fast. Loses himself to the loud music and drugs. It’s easy for everything to blur into the press of dancing bodies. 

At some point during the night he finds himself resting on the couch, head tipped back in thought as he rubs the last traces of cocaine off the underside of his nose. Still aware that it’s too early for this, that tonight he’ll have company of a different kind. 

He doesn’t have time for this and he’s considering ending this all early but—and dear lord he hates himself for this—but a guy he doesn’t recognize keeps looking at him funny. Shooting smiles his way and making sure John is looking when he bends down to pick something up. 

“His name’s Leo, cute, huh?”

John nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden voice by his ear. His drink does however, spill out over the edge and onto his hand. And, of course, onto the too expensive clothes his parents bought him a few years back. 

“Never seen him before,” John finally says after regaining his composure. He hunches further in on himself, tries to ignore the strange coil of heat in his belly when Leo looks his way once more. 

“You must’ve skipped out on the last few parties then.” 

Thomas laughs when John only smiles. It’s true, it’s been a while since he’s indulged. Teresa keeps him steady for a week or so, then he remembers how much he wants to fucking die and he figures he might as well make the most of his existence. 

“He looks like he wants you,” Thomas helpfully murmurs. “Go for it.” He laughs then, “get laid man.”

John’s cheeks flush, he had been hoping no one noticed the glances him and Leo were exchanging. Mostly because he doesn’t know what to do with all the pent up feelings inside him. But also because he’s never...been with a man. He wouldn’t know what to say, how to seduce a guy. Or would that be the wrong term? Can men be seduced like women? Surely the technique would be different. 

He doesn’t know, it’s territory that makes him feel sick. Something Thomas must pick up on because his friend snorts crudely beside him. 

“C’mon, before someone else snags that one up.”

“Are...are you…?”

“Gay? Nah, but Leo goes both ways. And there are a few cute girls here, if you haven’t noticed.” 

John ignores Thomas’ last comment, because really he hadn’t noticed the girls. He’s trying to ignore them actually. “He’s bisexual.”

“Yup. But he’s got his eyes on you right now. Can’t blame him, ruining the goddamn poster boy of Harvard should count for something.”

John cringes, “know one is going to ‘ruin’ me. I’m not a damn virgin.”

Thomas laughs loudly at that, tossing back his own drink. “You coulda fooled me, making goo goo eyes at Leo like you’ve never received that kind of attention.”

He gets up before John can respond, off to get more to drink surely. But John wants to tell him that to an extent he hasn’t received attention like this. Not from a man. 

He realizes that he’s getting hot though, that he wants to speak to Leo, to see what’s underneath the loose tee-shirt he’s got that reveals his collarbone perfectly. 

John places his drink down a little more harsher than necessary, leaning forward towards the table to snort the white powder up through his nose—a small confidence boost. And he makes his way over to Leo. 

“Ah, finally, I was wondering when you’d make your way over.” Leo’s smile is easy going, a gentle thing that makes John’s heart sing. “This is your place?” 

John nods wordlessly, doesn’t bother telling this man his name, though he might already know it. Doesn’t bother asking anything that might make this interaction personal. Because as Leo closes in on him and puts a hand against his cheek and the other on his waist, he feels himself harden. He knows where this is going to lead, even if he doesn’t fully understand why he’s feeling the way he is.

He isn’t gay, is he? Or bisexual...he’d surely know by now. He’s 19. More importantly it’s a sin. 

But he can’t think too much about that, the drugs and alcohol clouds his mind. Makes him loose and pliant when Leo asks where his bedroom is and John dutifully leads him. 

He undresses just as enthusiastically as his partner for the night. Throws himself into bed and hesitates only for a second when Leo pins him. 

“You ever done this before?” Leo asks, kissing his cheek and down his neck. 

“What? Sex?”

Leo laughs brightly. A finger dropping to circle his rim. The action makes John gasp and tense. “Sex with a guy. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Ah.” John bites his lip, hates how his cock is laying hard against his stomach already. That his body and mind seem to be in disagreement for what is right. “No. I haven’t.”

“S’alright.” Leo rolls off him, yanking open the drawer next to his bed. “Do you have condoms?”

John snorts. An unspoken  _ of course  _ held between them. 

Leo finds them quick, holding it up triumphantly before handing it off to John. 

“You can fuck me,” Leo says when John only stares at the condem. Already jamming a finger between his thighs to loosen himself. “Unless you don’t want to?”

John’s cheeks go pink. He glances down at Leo’s cock, thicker than John’s own, circumcised and well groomed. It’s hot. Makes John feel hot all over. 

“You can fuck my mouth.” Leo offers, already laying down in front of where John’s kneeling on the bed. “You seem nervous.”

John doesn’t deny it, though he doesn’t say anything either. He can’t. Words get stolen from his throat when Leo takes him in hand and presses his cock head against his lips. His tongue darts out, licking along his slit playfully. 

His eyes are wide, watching John with rapt attention. A smile stretching his mouth when John lets out a gentle bitten off moan. 

He blocks out everything—tries to at least—pretends that the man below him isn’t a man at all. This is a sin. His parents were right, he's a heathen. The worst kind of monster. 

As he comes, spilling down Leo’s throat, he realizes that he’ll have to repent for this. 

He tells Leo to fuck off and leave him be. Falling asleep to the sound of the party winding down outside his room. 

*****

“John?” 

He’s being shaken awake, a soft hand curling around his shoulder. The small movement is enough to rouse him. To force open baby blues that would rather remain closed. 

“There you are.” 

Teresa is smiling at him, but it’s...different. Wrong in ways John didn’t think it could be. 

“Morning,” he grumbles, getting up on his elbows to look up at her properly. 

“It’s nighttime, actually.” 

He hums, runs a hand through his hair and focuses his eyes downward as everything comes rushing back to him. 

“You had guests over?” 

Another soft noise in the back of his throat. He can’t talk. Can’t look at her. 

She touches him. Places a hand on his cheek, another on his bare chest. “I cleaned up.”

He shakes his head, “you shouldn’t have had to do that.” He thinks of the myriad of beer bottles, of lines of coke that would’ve lingered on his table and counter tops. “That’s not…”

She tips her head, leaning into his side to kiss his cheek. Their first kiss, their first time being intimate in any sort of way. “Not what?”

“It’s not right.” He glances up and regrets it immediately. He hates the way she looks at him. Like he’s put the stars in the sky. “You shouldn’t be around that kind of crap. Around me.”

She shrugs it off quite literally. “Just drugs, Johnny. Lots of kids here do that crap.” She sighs, pushing down on his chest and forcing him to lie back. He makes a noise of protest when she slips under the blanket with him. 

“I’m naked.”

Teresa puts her head on his chest. “I know.” 

“Oh.” 

He closes his eyes tight, fear coiling around him as she hums a song he doesn’t recognize. She trails her fingers across his skin, dipping below the blanket to drag over his stomach. She makes nonsensical patterns along his thighs, avoiding his cock expertly. 

She’s too sweet to ask to fuck him. To push him back and take from her the same way he so often takes from others. 

She’s too good for him. She deserves better. She hasn't been ruined the way he was when he was still so very young. 

Teresa kisses a tattoo beside his collarbone. 

He takes a deep breath and steadies himself. “I don’t think this is going to work.”

Her lips pause, hovering over his skin. “What?”

“Us.” He tips his head away. Coward. “I don’t think this...relationship is going to work. 

“John, talk to me—“

He sits up suddenly. Shoves her away to get his point across. It hurts him to see the pain that flashes across her face, but in the long run this is for her. 

“I  _ am _ talking to you! You just aren’t listening.”

Teresa purses her lips, carefully standing. She’s stiff by the edge of his bed. “Something’s wrong and you’re not telling me what. If you’d just let me in—“

“No.” He can’t. Doesn’t she understand that he’s never done that? No one ever walks away from him without a fresh scar. He won’t defile someone so pure. “Leave, Teresa.”

There’s a long beat of silence that makes John painfully aware of how cruel he’s being, but she’s gone before he can change his mind. 

Before he can set his life on a different path. A path where violence doesn’t have to be the answer. What’s done is done. 


End file.
